


Unbound

by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Cross-Generation Relationship, Handfasting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 08:59:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3723016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumosed_quill/pseuds/lq_traintracks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Sirius is standing there, and the witch is going on about a year and a day and all that and slipping the cool silk between her hands, but he's screwed, because all he can think about is other things an industrious bloke can do with ties.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unbound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elrhiarhodan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/gifts).



"Are you nervous, mate? It's perfectly natural. To be nervous, that is." Ron gulps and tugs at his tie. "But you killed You Know—"

"Voldemort."

"Right. You can do this. You're a multi-talented bloke, Harry."

Harry looks at his friend sideways. "What does being talented at anything have to do with getting married?"

Ron shrugs. "I dunno. But you're very loyal. You're committed. You can absolutely do this."

"I know I can." Harry straightens his tie and smooths down his collar. "You're the one who's nervous, not me. Look at you. You're sweating like that Chaser for the Falcons."

"Winthrop?"

"That's the one."

Ron swallows again, looking greener by the moment.

Harry takes him by the shoulders. "Look, the best man doesn't have to give his speech until everybody's well and truly pissed, all right? Just make fun of me for a few lines and raise your glass. That's it."

"Okay… okay…"

"Good. Feel better?" 

"No. Not really, no."

"Suit yourself." Harry pats his best friend on the back, and it's only when the strains of cello filter through the tent flaps that he loses his own breath. And only for a moment. Only until he realises they're playing Sirius' favourite Weird Sisters song. Then no-one could stop his smiling.

*

"More… Fuck, Sirius, _more_." Because the man's teasing him, the buttplug securely in place but not vibrating – the bindings tight around his wrists and ankles and spread-open knees but his mouth free to beg.

And Sirius' mouth – so ready to smirk, so slow to anything else.

Harry bounces his hips on the bed, whining. Sirius raises a wine goblet, an eyebrow, and has the nerve to toast him. He takes a long swallow and raises his wand. Harry wants to weep with relief. But he doesn't draw the tie between Harry's lips as he'd promised. (Already, he's breaking vows.) Instead he winds it over Harry's eyes until everything's dark. Until Harry's left with his own panting, getting louder and louder to his ears. Until all slides away, even his lover's face. 

Until it's the soft bed beneath him, the slick plug filling him, his own cock leaking onto his belly, and then Sirius' voice, his whiskers, at Harry's ear. The word is like a new promise, a new vow, "Ready?"

Harry's cock twitches. He moans. 

Sirius turns the thing on.

*

Sirius is standing there, and the witch is going on about a year and a day and all that and slipping the cool silk between her hands, but he's screwed, because all he can think about is other things an industrious bloke can do with ties.

Harry Potter and a slew of their old Gryffindor ties…

Some older than others, of course, but that's no matter.

But the witch is now taking Sirius' hand, and she's taking Harry's, and fuck but Harry does look beautiful. His robes are pefect, and he looks so strippable it's distracting. Plus, his eyes glitter like he knows just exactly where Sirius' thoughts have turned. Harry smirks as the witch binds their wrists in an elegant _Incarcerous_. It's their wedding day; there should be no smirking, of that Sirius is certain.

Yet there it is, alight on Harry's face, and Sirius feels relieved. Maybe he fits in at this business after all. He'd felt sure there'd be no opportunity for smirking. But Harry insisted he'd live through the ceremony. "You might even enjoy yourself," he'd said, sliding confident arms around Sirius' neck in the shower.

"I enjoy this." Sirius had roughly grabbed both globes of Harry's arse.

In fact, he's thinking about Harry's arse right this moment. He's not listening to the witch's words, which he knows Hermione wrote. But when Harry turns his palm and smooths his fingers over Sirius' rapid pulse, Sirius breathes. He grasps the strong wrist offered to him. And he watches Harry's smirk soften, those eyes decending to his lips and darkening.

A silence drops over the proceedings like it's Sirius' turn to do or say something. Hermione clears her throat nearby.

"What's it time for?" Sirius asks Harry as quietly as he can.

"The only part you're good at," Harry answers.

Sirius smiles. Then he hauls Harry in close and kisses him.

*

His lover can't see, and he can't touch, and Sirius sucks his cock slowly, like they have all night.

They have all night.

Harry bucks for more. He whines. His arms strain at the red and gold ties, fingers opening and closing – surrendering only to once again curl into violent fists.

Sirius tastes him, sucks off, lets Harry's heavy prick fall into the crevice of his hip, leans down and laps along its shaft.

"Sirius… Sirius…"

And where the heady elven wine at the reception had turned Sirius slow and easy… had led to unhurried dances, his collar open, his hand pressed to Harry's back just above his delectable arse… now his lover's voice speeds him.

"What do you want?" Sirius' lips against the head of Harry's cock while he asks.

"You know what I want, you arrogant wanker."

Sirius removes the plug, a lazy tease, though his own cock is so hard it almost hurts.

" _Yes!_ "

"You want to be empty, love?" He runs the tip around Harry's sensitive rim.

And the sound that comes out of Harry. Sirius almost feels guilty. He tosses the plug aside and slides between Harry's wrenched open thighs. He strokes himself with a hand he wishes weren't shaking. At least Harry can't see it.

"You must tell me. What do you want?"

Harry's arse bounces on the bed. He turns his head and pants ragged breaths.

"You want me to fill you?"

A sweet whimper.

"Is this what you want?" Sirius presses his cock to Harry's relaxed arsehole. He feels Harry try to open his legs even further in response. "This?" Sirius asks again and now presses forward, presses into him, a long, sure stroke.

Harry can't see Sirius' eyes roll shut. He can't see the mouthed words, _Oh my bloody god._ Harry can only feel. He can only lose every word but _yes_.

He can't touch. He can only suffer the weight of Sirius' body on top of him, the withdrawal, the quick slam back inside.

"Sirius… Oh fuck, Sirius…"

"Yeah?" Sirius manages, because he's fucking losing it already. 

Harry's wrists strain in the bonds. He grits his teeth. Sirius fucks him, sliding hot inside that held-open body, and Harry shudders. His arms shake, he says it one more time -- _Oh, Sirius._ \-- then, helpless, he comes.

He shatters underneath him, quaking. Sirius wants to know what it would feel like to empty inside this body while it's incapable of an embrace. He wants to use Harry and come in him without one intentional touch to his own skin.

Yet he doesn't.

There are tears escaping the blindfold, and Harry's limbs are going weak in the bonds, and all Sirius really wants is the incredible warmth of him.

So he whispers some magic and looses the ties, and in an instant, Harry's arms come around him, his legs wrap more slowly behind Sirius' thighs. Sirius looks down and into his lover's eyes.

"Fuck me, Sirius." Tired, sated, so bloody sexy.

Sirius braces over him, held by him, and he thrusts until he comes. It's not long. Not with Harry's eyes blinking up at him, and his hands petting Sirius' hair, his neck. Not when they kiss, and Harry hums like things are perfect between them.

Sirius drops his face into Harry's neck to catch his breath.

"Mmm…" Harry sighs. His fingers draw slowly through the hair at his nape. "Feel better?"

Sirius smiles. "Absolutely, yes."

Harry presses a kiss to his sweaty forehead. Eventually, his fingers stop their stroking.

They fall asleep amidst a bed full of old Gryffindor ties, binding nothing.


End file.
